


A Love Story

by TheDarkSide



Category: Naruto
Genre: Abuse, Brainwashing, Dark Hashirama, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Hashirama overstepping his bouds, M/M, Mito doesn't know when to let it go, Multi, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Hashirama, Sibling Incest, Trigger Warnings, he has no idea what boudaries are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2019-11-29 11:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18222548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkSide/pseuds/TheDarkSide
Summary: Hashirama knows from the moment red eyes meet his, that his brother will change his world. Tobirama is his, no-one else's. He couldn't care less about rules or laws or taboos. Kami help those that get in his way.





	1. It Starts

**Author's Note:**

> This is really dark. There will be unpleasant material ahead, so if things like abuse/brainwashing and incest disgust you, you may want to give this one a pass.

This is the  first time he holds Tobirama in his arms. His brother is a little odd looking, squishy and pudgy and so very pale. Newly born and sticky in the blanket to prove it. He's not fussing. Not crying like all the other babies Hashirama has seen birthed. Tobirama, not even an hour old, is still and calm and quiet.

Their mother is worried, Hashirama had screamed when he was born and had been loud enough about it to drive Butsuma from the room. And yet Tobirama is quiet, had fed quietly and hadn't made a sound when their exhausted mother had given him to his elder brother to hold while she rests. Butsuma is not here, and Hashirama is grateful for it when feathery white lashes flutter open around eyes like drops of blood in fresh snow, awake and alert long before it is usual for an infant. His is the first face Tobirama sees. The thought of it stirs something dark and old and vicious in him. 

Butsuma rails at his wife when he returns to find a son paler than even the Uchiha with eyes that so resemble the Sharingan. Calls her all manner of things that Hashirama does not understand,but can tell by his fathers’ tone are meant to wound. He doesn't care. Leaves the room with his sibling bundled in his arms and toddles down the hall to his own quarters. There he remains until Tobirama begins to make the softest of fussing noises in hunger. Butsuma leaves when Tobirama is returned to his mother to drink, does not touch his newborn son. Doesn't even spare him a glance and refuses to share a room with him. Their mother is tired from eighteen hours of labor, and Hashirama is all too glad to bed down with his little brother. Waking up every few hours to soft fussing doesn't bother him in the least.

Tobirama is almost a year old when their mother falls pregnant with Kawarama. She's limping that morning. Butsuma had wanted to ensure that the next child met his standards. His brother is learning to walk and talk, and is already far more confident about it than most his age. Hashirama is proud, his brother is special. They still share a futon, and more often than not the clan heir is trailed by a head of fluffy white hair wherever he goes. The Senju at large avoid Tobirama. Cross the streets and whisper things Hashirama does not like behind his brothers back. He shouts at them for it, but they don't care.

He holds Kawarama when he's born, and it isn't the same. He loves his newest brother, of course he does, with all his heart. But Tobirama is still his first priority. Itama is the next to be born, and still that dark possessiveness is only brought out by white hair and red eyes. Tobirama is special in his elder brothers eyes, has been from the first moment they locked gazes and deep inside Hashirama knows that nothing will ever change that. Tobirama is  _ his _ , and Kami help anyone who forgets it. 

Special, as it turns out, doesn't even begin to cover it. Tobirama is a sensor, a  _ powerful _ one. By age four his range is already twice that of even the most attuned adult. Hashirama is more proud of his little brother than he has been of anything in his life, and when Butsuma finally starts looking at his second son, he's afraid. He's angry too. So very angry, but he tucks it away because Tobirama looks at him funny when he doesn't.  _ His _ Tobirama, who is so powerful he can sense even the most minute fluctuations in Chakra from miles away.

Their mother dies when Tobirama is five and Itama is still a newborn, struck down by an illness that the second Senju brother is fighting desperately to overcome. Hashirama is too busy keeping his most precious sibling alive to mourn her properly. He does not leave his brothers side, even when they lay her to rest. Hardly eats or sleeps, and spends every hour he can pouring his own Chakra into Tobirama's body. His brother cries, says it hurts, and Hashirama places a hand between his teeth and  _ keeps going _ , keeps  _ giving _ , because for all that it's burning and bending and  _ mutating _ Tobirama's coils; it's keeping him alive and that's what matters. Ignores the part of him that revels in how his brother writhes as Hashirama's power brands him ‘ _ mine now, inside and out, mineminemine _ ’.

They overcome the sickness together, Hashirama's Chakra in his brothers tortured coils. Tobirama isn't the same after that. Three streaks of red on his face to match the red branching out from each of his tenketsu points. Hashirama thinks it's really pretty, and Tobirama blushes when he tells him so but hides them anyway. It makes him sad, but there are other changes that cannot be so easily disguised. Mostly because his little brother cannot tell they're there, and his sibling doesn't care to inform him. Hashirama  _ likes _ how vicious his precious person has become. How his already graceful brother now walks like a caged tiger, how he bites and scratches and hisses and roars when they spar. For all his brother is still a genius of frightening proportions, he's also an  _ animal _ by Hashirama's doing.

When Kawarama falls, Hashirama goes to the river to bury his anger in sorrow. Madara is an unexpected friend, and their resolution is an important one. But for all he loves this new friend like a sibling of his own, he'd gladly strip the flesh from his bones if ever he dared raise a hand against Tobirama. He goes home with a lighter heart to find that his pale brother has spent the day comforting Itama. Falls asleep next to his two remaining brothers and doesn't stir when Tobirama leaves in the ghost hours to sate his blood lust. It's his little brother's first time killing, and although none survive to spread the rumor, it's the true bloody birth of the Senju's White Demon.

Hashirama isn't angry that Tobirama has been following him. He's not angry that Tobirama had told their father, because his brother is so beautifully obedient and Hashirama would expect nothing else of him when faced with a direct order. He's not angry at Madara either, just disappointed. He's  _ furious _ with Butsuma, with  _ himself _ . He almost  _ lost _ Tobirama today. His sire almost sacrificed his most precious person, his brother, the axis of his being. 

He's also jealous. It grates, how Butsuma has his brothers obedience. The thought of Tobirama submitting to another, bowing his head to anyone who isn't Hashirama stirs something foul to fester under his skin. He will  _ make _ Tobirama obey. Will make it so that Hashirama's word is law in Tobirama's world. Getting rid of his father is the first step.


	2. Growth and Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama loses his shit and gets stuff done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death ahead, please wear your seatbelts.

Despite what his family would have people believe, Hashirama is not incapable of waiting. He's well aware of the benefits of patience, and it's a true exercise in restraint to endure the ensuing years. Butsuma becomes increasingly insistent about Tobirama's training, their father subjecting him to increasingly rare strengthening techniques that border on torture. It drives Hashirama mad, and Tobirama does no more than roll bloodshot eyes. Tobirama's attention has been turned to Itama, their gentle brother, and an effort to protect him from the wrath of their sire.

It proves futile when Itama is killed by the Uchiha child hunters. Tobirama is quiet before the grave, still amidst the tumbling cherry blossoms loosed by the wind. They settle in his hair and brush dry cheeks, and though Hashirama mourns and cries, that twisted jealousy that had settled in his chest finally eases. He wants nothing more to hold his sibling to his chest, to bury his nose among white hair and pink petals and inhale the scent of his last little brother.

They are twelve and fifteen when Tobirama is stabbed in the chest by Tajima. Hashirama will admit to not taking it well. Butsuma abandons them on the field to chase after his nemesis, and the eldest Senju sibling seizes the opportunity. It’s spring, and there are seeds abundant. It takes but the barest flicker of his will to have them take root in Butsuma and Tajima’s lungs.

He carries his brother home, swaddled in velvet vines and fuzzy leaves. His precious person is dying, the sword had brushed his heart. Tobirama is unconscious by the time he’s set down on the futon, breathing shallow and heart beat so sluggishly fluttering that Hashirama can barely feel it. It’s good that he’s not awake for what his elder brother does to him, barely registering the pained grunts of his sibling past the haze of red as Mokuton takes root inside his ribcage.

There’s screaming, and Hashirama thinks it might just be coming from his own mouth. He doesn’t care. Wood pushes into his sibling, fine as spiders silk and infused with his own life force. He  _ will _ keep Tobirama  _ alive _ ,  _ no matter the cost _ . The elder howls when his siblings heart stops beating, wraps those threads of himself within Tobirama’s chest around the muscle and squeezes.

His brother is dead for six long minutes before Hashirama’s efforts bear fruit and his heart restarts, microscopic Mokuton wound into the very muscle fibres of his organs. He can feel the flutter of his siblings chakra against the roots wound about his brain stem, the jackrabbiting of that precious heart that had been still for far too long. He holds Tobirama in his arms and weeps, for today he had truly lost his sibling.  _ Never again _ , he thinks as he thickens the bark over the hole struck through Tobirama’s chest. Grows wood harder than any iron over his sternum, coats his vulnerable spine in plates that streak red as they burst from pale skin.  _ Safe and mine forever _ , drowns out his siblings screams as he winds monstrous quantities of his chakra, his Mokuton, his very being into his sibling. Fixes chakra pathways that break under the strain, heals nerves that shatter and burn and reinforces bones with his jutsu.

Tobirama is asleep when Hashirama ends his father. Butsuma and Tajima fall mid battle, spinal cords ruptured from within by Hashirama’s Mokuton. He spares a thought for Madara, but if they are to bring peace, then the old regime must be severed at the source. He’s not the sensor Tobirama is, rather pathetic in comparison-  _ brother is special, precious, priceless, mine _ \- but he takes great joy in snuffing out his father and the Uchiha clan head. Madara will get over it.

The position of leader falls to him within the week, charismatic and lovable as he is. Power is for those strong enough to wield it and there is no-one in all of Fire Country that could challenge him, young as he is. The Elders sneer at him, call him soft, but they don’t  _ know _ . Tell him that must rule as his father before him, and that it is time to think of heirs to replace Tobirama. A marriage to forge alliances. And Hashirama nods and smiles and laughs, a sunny grin to hide dark thoughts and shadowed eyes. He smirks at them when they turn their backs,  _ Tobirama will rule at his side, his brother and no other _ .

Said brother is just climbing out of bed when he returns home, and Hashirama places a firm hand over the hardness of his sternum under the bandages. “Rest Ototou. You almost died.” It’s soft but unyielding, and Tobirama bends through growls and grumbles. He’s still hoarse from screaming at his Anija for what Hashirama had done. Had been enraged beyond reason, pressed himself against the wall when his sibling approached and cried silently. It had twisted Hashirama’s heart to see his only brother so afraid of him, truly-  _ but rather alive and afraid that dead _ . He’ll fix that as they go.

Butsuma’s death brings welcome change for the most part. The one thing that it sets into motion that Hashirama does  _ not _ like, is the marriage. The Uzumaki heiress has accepted, and they are to meet soon. Hashirama rails silently, pacing a ring of nettles around his brother’s reading tree. “Anija, please.” Tobirama frowns down at him over the edge of a scroll, a snow white brow raised in annoyance and Hashirama knows he’s pushing his luck-  _ that won’t do _ . For all he is Clan Head now, he will bow to his brother- in most things anyway. Tobirama is his life partner, his  _ queen _ , for all the title doesn’t quite fit. A single step takes him into the wood of the tree, and Tobirama flinches the barest little bit when Hashirama emerges from the branch to wrap his sibling in his arms. He’s still working on that and gaining his siblings trust again will take time.

Mito isn’t bad, all things considered. Stern and cool and even tempered, she doesn’t shy away from his boisterous personality. Does nothing more than raise her eyebrow and tip her head in submission when he turns down her invitation to bed together in favour of laying with his sibling. They’re both fifteen after all, and the Elders will not press for children until they are fully grown. She hardly reacts to him at all, actually, and seems far more interested in Tobirama. Tobirama who is  _ jealous _ , and refuses to speak to the woman contracted to steal his sibling away. Hashirama does  _ not _ like that smile on her lips  _ at all _ .


	3. Troublesome Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama isn't competitive. He just doesn't like his territory encroached on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is molesting ahead, be warned. We will be entering smutty territory properly in the next chapter, but there's enough in here to get your feet wet.

Mito worms her way into their house in increments. There are new, soft scents from the furro. Spring blossoms and meadow flowers, so unlike Tobirama’s clean sea breeze smell. He’d find it amusing if he disliked her a little less, that his inland sibling smells more like the sea than the island heiress. There is a brush with thin strands of red hair among the bristles in the guest room, and a wardrobe and chest full of fine silks. A new inkstone on the kotatsu and a finer set of brushes. Hashirama does not like this at all, and no amount of her soft body brushing seductively against him will ease his hidden distaste.

When Hashirama refuses to bed her, even once they are both of age, she sets her sights on Tobirama propper. She is discreet at first, he’ll give her that. The attempt at secrecy is futile- Hashirama sees how she tries to tempt his brother with knowledge, fuinjutsu scrolls left unrolled in the open where his sibling is bound to find them. It works more than he would like it to, Tobirama’s gaze drawn and caught in passing. Surreptitious glances toward Mito’s room before he folds growing gangly limbs beneath himself to study sweeping lines of seals in comfort. An overgrown feathery white fringe brushes against long, snowy lashes. His brother is really growing into himself, has been restless in his sleep as his body rages with hormones Hashirama is all too eager to explore. It would appear, however, that he may just have to make it clear to his dear wife that Tobirama is his-  _ mine alone, and if she refuses to listen then she will have to be shown _ .

It starts on a morning like any other, already shading toward mid day when his baby brother finally manages to drag himself out of their bed. Tobirama is not one for early rising, for all he is capable of waking at the drop of a pin on missions. Very few get to see him as he is now, bearily rubbing fists against sleep crusted eyes and white hair pressed into a truly spectacular display by the pillow and a mixture of water and lightning affinities.

He’d tossed and turned next to Hashirama last night, mewling in his sleep and it would have taken a far greater man than the elder Senju to resist pressing a muscled leg between pale thighs parted so invitingly. Hashirama tries not to indulge often, truly he does, but last night had simply been one of those rare occasions where he couldn’t help but apply teasing pressure against the erection staining his brothers yukata. He’ll not lay a hand on Tobirama until his brother is sixteen-  _ just a few months now _ \- but till then he shant object against letting his brother rut against him in the throes of a dream.

Mito is sitting with him at the kotatsu, and when Tobirama’s stretches pull his ever shrinking yukata up to expose a pale sliver of skin and a thin trail of silver hair, Hashirama catches the resolve as it appears in his eye. She stands to greet his sibling, as she has a few times prior, and Hashirama sees red when she forgoes a gentle brush for a full body embrace. Tobirama hardly reacts, mostly asleep as he is. Merely brushes his cheek against a fall of red hair before shuffling over to sit moulded against Hashirama. He ruthlessly quashes the urge to smirk at the flicker of annoyance in her eyes when a fluffy bed head of white hair drops to rest on his shoulder. Hides a grin behind his cup when Tobirama turns further to press his face against Hashirama’s cheek, and dozes off. Mito will have to do better than that.

As it turns out, the Uzumaki is well up for the challenge. Her touches become increasingly frequent to the point where Tobirama’s body reacts despite his obvious discomfort.  _ That simply won’t do _ . Hashirama has made a vow to keep his hands to himself, but sometimes vows must be broken for a greater cause. Mito will  _ not _ have his last sibling, Tobirama is  _ his to teach, to please _ . A month before his siblings’ birthday, Tobirama joins him in the furro blushing in that special way that highlights the faint dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Ah, something wrong Otouto?” It’s entirely innocent, both brows raised and face open and earnest. Tobirama hesitates minutely before muttering a denial and making to sit beside his brother to scrub. The towel around his waist is cast aside and his brother is quick to lean forward, but Hashirama has already seen the twitching cock hard between his legs. It’s not too difficult to fill in the gaps.

“Let me wash your back. You’ve been hunched over the hiraishin scrolls all day.” Such an easy excuse to utter, and Tobirama melts between token protests after a few firm motions along the muscles of his back. Hashirama kneads at tense muscle under butter soft skin marred only by the plates of his jutsu along Tobirama’s spine, long since melded to the skin. The heels of his hands push firmly up his siblings back, indulging in the trust displayed to him as Tobirama melts under his hand. It takes only the barest bones of persuasion for his brother to give him permission to wash the rest of him. The washcloth doesn’t catch on the smooth snarls of Mokuton across Tobirama’s chest, and his brother leans back against him in sluggish bliss. The cloth is returned to the bucket before he grasps his siblings half hard member.

“Anija!”

“Hush Tobira, I’m just helping.”

There’s some squirming, but the first firm stroke from base to tip has his brother shuddering into stillness. “A-Anija, you really needn’t- hah!” Hashirama smirks where his brother can’t see, thumb a gentle pressure against the weeping slit. It’s difficult not to linger, but Hashirama must be careful in order to avoid scaring his brother off. He’s certainly not against using Mito’s own daring against her. Almost absently he rolls Tobirama’s balls in his palm, enjoying the feeling of soapy soft skin against his calluses. Tobirama is panting quietly, and by the time Hashirama draws him to his feet and brushes a soapy knuckle over his hole, his legs are shaking just enough for it to be noticable. “Anija!” Squeaked adorably half a second after the finger withdraws, only has him grinning sunnily at his sibling and raising his hands in surrender. “All done, I promise.” Now that he’s wiped Mito from Tobirama’s mind, he can focus on the problem itself. He’s not at all happy with what she’s attempting, and he’s long past the point of conceding to her advances on what is his. It’s time to remind her that he’s the God of Shinobi.

She’s poring over a scroll in the study when he finds her, lose hair spilling over the low desk in a crimson tide. Slow steps carry him to her, and she’s about to glance up when a stretch of his will has the wood of the desk wrapping around her wrists and up her neck. “Hashi-” A squeeze at her neck halts his name in her throat. “Uzumaki-hime. I hope you have time to talk.”


	4. Stolen Pleasures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somnophilia ahead, you've been warned.

Silent steps carry him around the desk where she kneels, and he sinks to the floor behind her. Mito is too good a kunoichi to allow her discomfort to shine through, but she can't hide the almost-tension of her back when he curves against her. Her neck is warm against his nose, his breath ghosting goosebumps across her skin. Spring fills his nostrils and he touches the tip of his tongue to her pulse, tastes her skin and tests it with teeth. Eyes close against the red of her hair, and Hashirama conjures his brother before his minds' eye. He's hard almost embarrassingly fast, pressing against the small of her back and rocking into that bit of friction. She's halfway through a whisper of his name when he quiets her, bringing calloused fingers up to catch on the silk of her kimono. The obi comes loose easily, allowing him to bring his hands to the the softness of her belly- too soft, lacking Tobirama's hard muscle- "Is this what you want?" She's tense and solid under him, but there's a shiver in her spine speaks of uncertainty. Then she seems to steel herself. "It's what I need." He pauses at the resolution, a sharp contrast to the musk of arousal he can smell, before shrugging mentally.  
Hashirama stumbles into their room at the hour when late and early meet. Tobirama is already curled up, a lump and a fuzzy tuft of white on the bed. Hashirama slides beneath the sheets, presses himself against the pale expanse of slender back exposed to him. The plates of his jutsu draw a dark purr of pleasure from his chest, and he can't help but brush fingers over the smooth scars where wood and flesh meet. Tobirama murmurs in his sleep, stretches out and fits himself to his sibling seeking warmth. Hashirama brackets his Otoutos' body with his own bulk, slides a hand around his waist and revels in the trust displayed by Tobirama’s continued deep sleep.  
Almost of its own accord his hand begins to wander. Trails slowly from the snarl of wood over Tobirama’s heart, down his muscled belly. Hashirama wants-- has just spent hours dutifully fucking his wife over the desk in the hopes that they will have an heir-- and imagined his brother under him. His fingers slide lower, into the loose sleeping pants his brother insists on wearing, and scratch at the thickening growth of white curls there. Tobirama huffs, but remains asleep, aided therein by the gentle press of his brothers' jutsu buried in the sensitive brain stem.  
Hashirama's fingers grasp the firming base of his cock, thumb stroking velvet skin and drawing forth a soft sigh from parting pink lips. The stuttered breath is a balm to the lingering feeling or frustration curling dark claws in his mind, and he strokes the forming erection intently. A reedy gasp only serves to encourage him, and Hashirama slowly slides sticky foreskin down to reveal the sensitive cockhead to his questing thumb. Tobirama whimpers at the first brush of the rough pad below his leaking slit, and Hashirama pauses-- slips a tentative thigh between his brothers legs to hold him still. Swirling his thumb gets him a breath that is nearly a moan, and Hashirama has to stop himself from answering it with a groan of his own when slim hips jerk for him.  
Slow, firm strokes fill his ears with muted sounds of pleasure. It soothes him, driving Mito from his mind and smoothing away the roughness that the sound of her voice had brought. Made for me, it rings as clear as truth in his head, speeding his hand to seek more of that sweet relief spilling from Tobirama’s lips. A change in pitch, a stutter of hips and his brother swells in his hand. The softly stuttered "a-ah" is accompanied by a hesitant spurt of stickiness, and then a deeper groan as Tobirama spills over Hashirama's fingers. Huffing sighs slow again, and the rush of what he's done rings in Hashirama's ears. He brings his slick hand to his lips, scents the musk of his brothers pleasure before dragging his tongue across the back of his hand to collect precious pearlescent streaks of forbidden ecstasy. The taste alone is enough to drag a painful orgasm from his already over sensitive loins, bucking his hips against the firmness of his brothers ass and grunting as it scatters stars behind his lids. Hashirama draws the centre of his universe closer, wraps him in his arms and soft mossy vines that curl from the floor without a thought, and slides into sleep with his lips pressed against Tobirama's pulse.  
Tobirama is absent from their bed when he wakes, but the divot where he'd lain against Hashirama’s side is still warm. He rolls onto his back and stretches, trails a finger flaked in white down his already hard cock where it bobs bare over his stomach. A second stretch as he contemplates taking himself in hand. There's banging in the kitchen, the mark of his brother’s lunch making, and the smell of something savoury. Baking, Tobirama’s stress relief. He flops back to melt into his vines and soft sheets. One last sigh and fingers through his hair before he rises and slips on an old yukata that edges toward indecent.  
His brother is sitting cross legged in front of the oven, and the sight brings fond memories and a smile to his face. Mito seems to be bathing, so Hashirama is at liberty to fold himself down behind his brother. Except Tobirama leaps to his feet at the first brush of contact, odd. "Anija. You're awake, finally. It's unseemly for the Head of Clan to languish in bed so late." To anyone else that voice would be even and sterile, but Hashirama is not just anyone. The words are rushed, just a little faster than they should be. Tobirama is trying not to fidget, tendons in his forearms jumping. "Ah, I'm sorry Tobira, I was up late." The softness of his voice disguises his advance, and he has Tobirama trapped against the counter before the younger Senju realises what is happening. "I am aware." Hissed like a feline with a trodden tail, Tobirama whirls to face away and brace his hands on the counter. It offers Hashirama a resplendent view of ears flushing pink under the freckles, and an opportunity to trap his brother between his arms. "Something wrong, Little Brother?" The spine against his chest is ramrod straight, but that gorgeous face is turned away. Hashirama wants nothing more than to grasp that angular jaw to look into ruby eyes- "Good morning, husband." And loses his chance as Tobirama worms away. He stares down at the counter, a snarl tugging at his lips--only to pause and press the pads of his fingers over scratches in the wood. A hand on his arm, and he smooths the marks away with a casual brush of his palm.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to shower me with questions and opinions. I'll answer as best I can.  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/artbythedarkside  
> Is my Tumblr, asks are welcome.


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